


Dark Birds

by futsch



Series: Hero, Event, Prophecy [2]
Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Comfort, Family, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-22
Updated: 2016-02-22
Packaged: 2018-05-22 15:49:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6085626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/futsch/pseuds/futsch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The one-shot to kick off the prequel to Rook of Skyrim--Relentless.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dark Birds

“Elya!” A man’s voice echoes through the thick of dense woods and seems to rise up into the mountains. With a careless hand, he sweeps back his shoulder-length hair, dark as his wife’s and his son’s and his daughter’s. “Dark birds” is what he affectionately calls his small family much to his wife Evra’s chagrin. “Elya, gods damn it all, girl! If your mother finds out that I’ve let you come with me she’s going to—”  
            And out of a tree springs his daughter, her hair flowing wildly out behind her—a wide, toothy grin accompanies the action. Turning quick on a heel, Colin manages to reach out wide and catch Elya. Her weight causes him to stumble back a bit but he is able to stay upright while lifting her up high.

As she balances her hands against his broad shoulders, Elya playfully growls and snaps her mouth at him. “I’m a dragon! Didya see me fly, didya?” Colin smiles widely as he plants a kiss into the inside of her arm, the most accessible part of her body to him.  
            “You daft, girl,” he lightly teases as Elya is lowered onto the soft, leaf-littered ground. “If Evra finds out I took you out to Dragon Bridge she’ll have my hide.” Colin winces a little at the thought of his wife’s sharp tongue chastising him for taking their daughter out on business again. As much as he loved her, Evra was uncompromising in her ideas for how little Elyrrya should be raised, which wasn’t an altogether horrible idea. Elya was certainly a handful. Tristyval never caused quite the commotion that often flew within her wake. “And it doesn’t help me a bit when you go around talking about old Nord legends.”

He bends so that he is now eye level with her and tousles her long, dark hair. “A dead giveaway that I’ve been letting you tag along with me.” He stands back up and chuckles. “Dragons. That mind of yours wanders too far at times, Rookling.”

Elya frowns but concedes, sighing. “Aaaaalright, I won’t tell _monah_ ,” she relents but slowly falls into the steps that Colin is forging ahead of them. Her foot meets a rock and she kicks it, causing it to roll off further into the woods. When he looks over his shoulder to assure himself that she hasn’t gone running off the beaten path again, it doesn’t seem quite right that Elya is staring off into space. For a child who has only seen nine seasons, Colin’s daughter often experiences spells of pensiveness that seems to rival her bouts of energy. He slows his paces to match her steps and takes her hand. She doesn’t return the grasp whole-heartedly.

Elyrrya had run off a few minutes ago, rushing off the path that followed between the looming Draudach Mountains and sprawling Karth River. Where she had found the small patch of tightly-packed woods was a wonder even to Colin. “I was sick with worry, Rookling,” he desperately evokes his pet name for her to rouse her from whatever was ailing her mind. “You could have been killed out there.”

Elya doesn’t say anything in response but kicks the ground again. Colin can see the rocky path rise up from the unpaved ground, scattered gravel littering spots here and there. He sighs. Poor Elya is wasting away in the wilds, as his wife would say. Tyval was more than happy to go about his day finishing chores and practicing reading or spellcasting. Colin spies his daughter from the corner of his eye. Elya and her brother could be twins, despite his being two years older than her—it doesn’t help she often steals his clothes to run around in. Briefly, it feels as if Colin is walking with his son.

Colin can’t quite take the uneasy silence and spontaneously swoops down and scoops Elya upward, swings her over his shoulders and settles her legs on either side of his neck. The surprise of his strong hands on her almost too-long legs makes her shriek in delight. “If you’re going to be a dragon,” he advises, smiling. “Then you very well can’t do so from the _ground_. From what I hear, dragons _flew._ ”

As his feet meet the path to their home, Colin runs at a slow jog and clamps his strong hands harder on Elya’s legs. She squeals with delight as he feels her hands loose from his shoulders and he watches her spread them wide like wings. “Birds fly too, _bormah_!”

            As her lithe body bounces lightly against him, Colin smiles widely at Elya’s name for him. Where she has taken it from was anyone’s guess. For as long as he and Evra can remember, Elya has made up words here and there that even Tyval shrugs at. “That’s right!” Colin bends down slightly and rushes to stand upright—this only elicits more giggling from her. Evra wasn’t going to be pleased with him at all but Colin knew she had a soft spot for Elya’s wild musings. The father and his daughter race along the path that frames Karth River. The racing wind is perfumed with the scent of muddy water and Elyrrya’s laughter rings in his ears.

* * *

 

            “Elya,” Colin’s wife chastises. “Stop playing with your food.” Evelyvyra pushes a leek to one side of Elyrrya’s plate. Colin can’t help but smile a little as he feels one of his daughter’s feet gently kick him accidently. This mealtime is no different than others. While Tristyval obediently takes hearty bites out of the roasted rabbit, Elya picks at a leak and peels off a sliver, wrapping it around a finger as Evra sighs and brings a hand down her face.

            “Child,” the plead in her voice is heavy. His wife takes a hand and runs it through Elya’s hair, strands weaving in between her long fingers. “Please eat something.”

            Elya frowns as she glances up at her mother momentarily. Begrudgingly, she snatches a piece of rabbit from her plate and shoves it in her mouth. Chewing exaggeratedly, his daughter asks, “Dith I eath enuff yeth?”

            Colin hears Tyval chuckle a little but Evra is scowling. He decides that maybe it’s time to help his wife. “Elyrrya.” The girl looks up at him guiltily. “Eat or you’ll force my hand.” Colin loathes disciplining either of his children but Elya makes it a little painful. He can feel his son tense up and out of the corner of his eye can tell that the boy isn’t eating anymore. Rather he’s staring expectedly at his sister.

            Elya resigns and her eyes lower to her plate, picking dutifully at the meat and vegetables. His wife looks back at him and gives him the knowing smile that they’ve learned to share as parents. Colin is too involved gazing into his wife’s dark eyes when he feels a slight tug at his sleeve.

            “Papa?” Tristyval motions to his own plate, mostly empty now. “ _I’m_ finished. Can we go out and cast some spells?”

            Colin winks at his wife before turning to his son, ruffling his hair. “My, you do like magic, don’t you?”

            Tyval nods excitedly and half-jumps from his seat, still tugging at his father’s sleeve. “C’mon now!”

            Colin laughs as he dramatically drags himself from the stool he was settled on, acting as if Tristyval is pulling at him with a force greater than what it actually is. He stands upright and pats his son affectionately on the back. Their steps are heavy in the small house, an echo of wood cutting through the silence that Elya’s defiance was imposing. Colin looks over his shoulder and takes one last look at his wife; Evra’s eyes look more fatigued than usual, her head resting in one hand but her gaze still unwavering from their unruly daughter. He gives her one last waning smile as he follows Tyval out the door.

            “So then, have you been practicing?” Colin asks his son who is now stopped in front of him, listening intently. The boy nods and his father beams. “That’s my boy. Show me what you’ve got then.”

            The boy with dark hair and dark eyes now looks a little downcast as he holds out his palms to Colin. “I’ve been practicing but…” his voice trails off and the words hang in the air between them.

            Colin knows the feeling well. He’s never told either of his children but back in Jehanna, he was a mage. Both he and Evra were. His talent comes easily at a number of illusion and alteration spells but beyond that it takes a fair bit of concentration to summon even the weakest of familiars or brightest of flames. He often wonders if maybe Tyval is talented but has a teacher who can’t help him. Elya was certainly horrible at anything beyond a simple candlelight spell. “Alright,” he looks down at his son and doesn’t have to bend down to meet him at eye level, the boy almost meets Colin’s chest but stands just below his rib cage. Eleven seasons past and Tristyval was shooting up quicker than a weed—Colin only needs to bend his neck slightly to meet the lanky boy’s eyes.

            “Don’t think about it,” he advises. “When you are asking the world to bend to your will, you have to accept that the world may not be how it seems.” He curls his own fingers into a slight ball and looks at the setting sun, the bright orange light causing the trees to look blacker than black. Colin breathes in and simply steals the light that’s already there, like a thief. The warmth in his hand is rising and once it feels right, he closes his fist and presents an open palm to Tyval. A bright glow illuminates inside the creases and flesh as the boy stares in wonder. “But sometimes it’s _exactly_ as it seems and all you have to do is see past what is there. If you want light, see past the sun and take out the candle the burns behind it.”

            Tyval nods and closes his eyes, concentrating on the words his father gave him. Colin watches expectedly as the boy attempts to curl his fingers in the same manner. Exhaling slowly, he opens his eyes and tries to present his father with light albeit unsuccessfully. He groans and throws his open palm downward as if tossing something. “What am I doing _wrong_? Even Elya can make a candle.”

            Colin is quick to point out, “And that’s _all_ she can do. You, on the other hand, are going to be quite the enchanter one day. I’m sure you’ve got a strong magicka link in you.” He points at the boy’s chest and smiles. “You’re trying too hard. Let it happen naturally. Reality is already there so you aren’t creating it from scratch. Use what you have.”

            This time he can see the look on Tyval’s face relax as the fingers curl into themselves. Colin feels a smile ease across his own face when he spies a faint glow peeking out from the clenched fist. When his son presents his fist this time, a white light sits in the cup of his palm.   

            “I did it,” he whispers. He moves one hand to meet together with the palm that is cupping the bright light, both hands holding the light as if it were water.

            Colin bends down slightly and gives Tyval a rough kiss on the forehead. “That’s my boy.” He ruffles the boy’s over-grown hair that is starting to curl at the ends. “Now let’s try—”

            And breaking through the silence, both hear Elya’s voice pierce the air. “Tyval, Tyval, Tyval!” She bounds out from the house and skips toward her brother, hugging his arm tightly as she makes contact. Just as soon as it had come into the world, the light falls and dies as it hits the ground.

            “ _Elyrrya_ ,” the boy’s voice sounds more than a little irritated. “That was my first candle.”

            The girl frowns but still keeps a hold onto her brother’s arm. Instead of apologizing, she simply opens her palm to him and presents a small light. “Here you are! Another candle!”

            Tyval roughly slaps her hand away. “Elya! That was _mine_.”

            His sister doesn’t take the reaction lightly and pushes him as hard as she can. As Tyval falls backwards, he regains some footing and springs at her. Before Colin can separate the two, the siblings are on the ground and pulling at one another’s hair, snarling and kicking up dirt. Both roll around and continue to throw punches at one another. They knock into the legs of Evra, who has just stepped out. Before Elya can swing at Tyval again, his wife grabs them both by the scruffs of their necks and drags them to their feet.

            The look on her face could kill a daedric prince. “ _What_ is going on out here?” Elya tries to break from her mother’s grasp but Evra’s leg swings out from her dress and keeps her daughter steady. “Oooooh no, young lady. None of that.”

Colin places one hand loosely on his waist while the other uses his thumb and middle finger to rub at his temples, “By the Eights, Nines and _Tens_ you two are being difficult this evening.” It’s his favorite way to evoke the gods—making it seem like there were new ones became a frequent curse around the household. “My love, let me deal with this.”

“No, no.” Evra pulls the two children even further apart. Both are staring the other down with furrowed brows and gritted teeth. “It’s alright,” she sighs. Colin decides to walk over and brings one hand down hard on Elya’s shoulder so as to stay her. His wife allows her grip ease but not release.

            His son crosses his arms and points at his sister, accusing, “ _She_ started it.  I hope the wilds claim her.”

            Elya edges away from Colin but is not strong enough to pull entirely away. Instead she spits out, “Maybe if you were better at magic you wouldn’t—”

            Colin clamps a hand over her mouth and he can feel her body relax. “ _Enough_ of this.” The last thing he needs is for his son to shy away from his practices because of some foolish thing his sister says out of anger. He lets out a deep breath. “Tristyval.” His son glances up at him. “Elyrrya.” His daughter briefly nods but doesn’t look up from the ground. “Early bed for both of you—” Both of his children open their mouths for protest but he holds up a hand. “No more magic or archery practice for either of you.”

            “But I didn’t even get a chance!” gasps Elya.

            “Well, then maybe you should have finished supper earlier,” Evra chastises the girl whose only response is a huff and crossed arms.

            Colin glances at Evra but addresses his children. “Off with both of you now.” He gently pushes Elya in the direction of the house as Tyval drags his feet to follow closely behind her. He waits until the children are out of range and moves to hold his wife. “Gods. There are days when I can’t believe we have children.”

            Evra returns his embrace and sighs again, burying herself in the crook of his neck. “There are days when I can’t believe we have _Elya_.”

            Colin chuckles a little and kisses the crown of Evra’s head. “I have not the faintest what’s gotten into that girl today.”

            “Probably listening to all those Nords,” she scoffs. “You know how those ideas get into that head of hers and takes hold. No thanks to _you_.”

            He winces a little. “You aren’t mad, are you? I hate seeing her stuck at home when it’s obvious she’d rather be running around. She’s just got too much fire in her. Tyval is happy at home…”

            “No he’s not,” his wife interrupts, looking up at him.

            This is a surprise to Colin. “No?” Tyval’s never complained to him, never acted any differently than he always has.

            Her nod is solemn, ominous. Colin feels that there is something more he’s not understanding. “I can tell. He does his chores with less fight than Elya but both of them are bored here, wilting.” She falters. “And…”

            He doesn’t need to hear the rest. “You aren’t happy either.” Not a question. One of his arms slides around her waist and the two of them walk slowly back inside. She doesn’t respond but he knows that it’s true. The two walk in silence and Colin’s a little concerned at how quiet the house is.

            “Children?” Evra calls out as both of them look around for them. “They can’t be asleep already. It’s close to sunset but not _that_ late.”

            Colin shrugs as he leads them to the children’s small bedroom and smiles widely, putting a finger to his lips to bid his wife silent. “Found them.”

            Evra peers around and stifles a laugh. Tyval and Elya are both huddled in one bed but while he is awake and frowning, she is cuddled close to him and sound asleep, mouth open and snoring. Tyval sees his parents and sighs exaggeratedly. “Why does she do this?”

            Colin brings his wife close to him, her hand trying to hide her soft laughter. “Despite the fact you two fight like Nords, you two love one another.” Tyval cocks his mouth to one side in skepticism. “You _do_ even if she irritates you. You’re both Ashwings. That means you two have to take care of one another. We’re a family.”

            That only causes his son to roll his eyes but reluctantly agrees, “ _Fiiiine_ , I’ll love my sister.”

            “Of course you will,” Evra coos. She slips from Colin’s reach and bends down to the side of their bed and kisses Tyval on the forehead. As she repeats the action with her daughter, she assures him. “And we will always love you two. No matter the Oblivion both of you bring to Nirn.”   

            Colin follows his wife’s lead and kisses his children goodnight. “There we are now. My rook and raven, both in their haven.” He smiles warmly. “I hope you find sleep well.”

           

 

**Author's Note:**

> Rook has always been a bit wild. See you soon for the beginning of Relentless!


End file.
